Long Serendipitously Poems
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As Artists Touching an Audience - Thoughts on Creating
Beyond the full experiencing and aims of the creative process in all genres, there are the results, the “made” productions, the works, ready to be sent
out there
from the self
to touch other people in some (any) way of giving,
the created work
presented
to affect the anyone in those moments
of being-in-audience
to an artwork (In the perceiving and receiving of it)
to any degree.
As writers, musicians, actors, artists, we are gifted through
the creative process: through
our Felt involvement
from onset to culmination of the created works
And also when we, too, pause outside artworks,
as with all perceptions,
to examine and receive, to be touched in some way:
sensually, intellectually, emotionally, spiritually, creatively…
Nearly always, then, we make a judgement
about whether we Like what we perceive
(in all of life as well) in an artist’s composition —
Here
Is the work we have met with for a time
and let reach us…
No matter how briefly, the created work
has thus gone from being some “thing”
To being an Experience.
This accounts, I think, for why artists of all genres
feel more than an ownership of “products” about the works done.
Like a god-parent might, we
artists invest our whole being into
shaping works
to the full completion of their inspiration.
And, then, (as a person does for a fostered one or offspring)
we have a bond…with a desire to follow the path and reception
of our works In the world beyond us.
Our created works poise apart from us…
very like living things…
Lost works are grieved …Others
Also often pass long periods asleep, away
from any receiving audience, even from us, the creators…
Perhaps going forgotten;
Some envisioned works crafted into reality
may return to a collection of once unfulfilled dreams,
which do startle if they eventually wander
out from dark corners and curled pages.
They may have stayed in sleep…to
serendipitously rise for notice in a rebirth
Like garden perennials signaled to stand
in Spring surprise…in a new season of a gifting presentation.
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Experimental prose-poetry
also an “Address of Poetry” blog, PoetrySoup
(I give 2nd Apologies to Aristotle for this :-)
(c) sally young eslinger 3/10/22
Thanks be to God
As you peruse through stacks of old photos,
sentimental tears guide your emotions.
Drowning in pools of yesterday's tears, you
serendipitously find Mom's letters.
In your rush to finally leave home, her
advice was met with frustration; and yet
without protest, she swallowed her pride and
applauded every milestone you achieved.
Time takes you back to when you last saw her;
stirring emotions you forgot you had.
For you never told her you loved her; and
questioning your heart, you begin to cry.
Isn't it weird how much you miss her talks now?
Alone, you deal with the hurt you're feeling,
by garnering love from those memories.
(2nd Letter Acrostic spelling “Serendipitously”)
"i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go . . . "
ee Cummings
the wrangle of the cell (the cell
that you own) touches me in places (warm
and tenderly the tinderbox explodes)
my ear —
a flame of agrabah (flying tendrils of
jasmine rejoice) riveting revelations of love
shared serendipitously, moving,
even sweetheart, over the ebb
and flow of sensuous oceans (keeping
us apart)
yet; close are we. . .
the wrangle of the cell (the cell
that you own) touches me in places (warm
and tenderly the tinderbox; explodes)
“warm and cozy, our toes curled together, in two different worlds”
11/14/2019
Writing Challenge, November- Some Kind of Love
Sponsor, Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode
In the halcyon hush of twilight meadows,
a clown carves laughter from hydrangea elixir,
his smile — a fuchsia epitaph,
hidden behind a dazzling white glow.
Sparkling countless orbs drift from his broken pockets,
ghosts grow wishes in splotchy shade,
each sangria song he sings
splinters against the opalescent primrose sky.
Serendipitously, sorrow stitches his grin —
a mystical black ballet performed
for an audience of lustrous fireflies.
Coral summer nights smell wonderful to others,
but he drifts alone in purple dreams,
his burgundy luna heart heavy with
psychedelic echoes of forgotten cheers.
Spree silvery jewels tumble down his cheeks —
not laughter, but
the silent fabric of darkness knit with marvel,
where every jest
hides another tear.
Written: April 24, 2025, for Contest sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
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Once upon a magical evening an enchanted fairy I happened to see
dressed in a fantastical dress with two dappled wings of lace,
she shone like the midnight sun;
I must confess, she looked rather whimsical
sitting there by a green wooden door, waiting for your lore!
I serendipitously reached a timeless twilight canvas
The fairy whispers of dreams, wings, and aged myths
I saw orbs rising in her eyes
each star is hanging on her breath
The fabric of darkness is knit with marvel
She beckoned me to a silent, mystical black ballet
Each sparkle was a memory
Yet to be lived
her grin paved the heavens
Together, we soared beyond the horizon's edge,
ghosts grow wishes in splotchy shade,
as opalescent primrose on an ethereal threshold,
fuchsia epitaphs
of lustrous fireflies glide by
Extending an invitation to discover
Similar to sparkling, countless orbs of hydrangea elixir
Psychedelic echoes as gold-lilacs slowly wilted
I saw orbs emerging in her eyes, as wisteria vines
Each star hung on her breath
within sangria songs
A dazzling white glow stems from spring
Juvenile giggling invades the landscape
A fairy whirlwind shapes chauvinistic dreams.
Spree Silvery jewels from twilight maroon meadows
Coral summer nights smell wonderful in purple dreams
On this halcyon land
fitted snugly in hedgehog twigs.
An inquisitive smile spread over her face
While she observed the burgundy luna
I asked, "Why does darkness color clouds?
I believe her dreams may be a cathartic cure.
Mountains with vibrant floras
Led down to fruit laden orchards
In the verdant vales below.
I heard her then, a syrupy song
Of tender love and feats of old.
I stood beneath an apple tree
As her song wafted on the breeze,
Sliding in and around the fruit trees,
Scattering aromatic fragrance around.
Serendipitously I came onto a small farm.
A small river wended its tortuous way.
A small bridge took me to several patches
Where vegetation grew. I could live there forever.
All around I enjoyed the serenity
That I had craved for but rarely found.
Swiftly night descended as the moon
Rose from beyond the low hills.
How I enjoyed the evening farm food
Where I was invited and then
A good night sleep in their spare bedroom.
But morn came, and grudgingly had to leave.
Back into the heart of the city,
Large edifices, black with age.
Everywhere the smell of stale food, burning oil,
And a hint of smoked marijuana.
O to be rich and escape forever
To my lovely vale, now so far away.
one day a cargo ship lost control
and crashed into a busy commercial pier
the determinant cause of the accident
was a lack of daily maintenance and care
for when things don't get the proper care and maintenance
an accident might occur, a possible catastrophic event
as everything man-made has a work safety history
accidents don't usually occur serendipitously
for anything to stay in good working, it requires a routine of daily care
like when It comes to worshipping The Living God, we must always be aware
that God gave us His daily bread, He provided us with a most glorious meal
a feast that we should dine upon until The Holy Spirit becomes in us instilled
don't think that going to church one day of the week you will get you spiritually fit
for there is no fast formula nor remedy you can take in order to get the Holy Spirit
what true worship can do for you
just look at any faithful Christian man
see how The Lord has worked in his life
then you might begin to understand
that living daily in the presence of God
will cleanse your heart and occupy your mind
true worship of The Living God
is a daily supper on which to dine
your salvation is in The Lord's hands
He's in control of everything
your situation is also dependant on God
plus what to the table that YOU bring
there is no short cut nor a quick fix
if you want The Living God to be in the mix
so maintain your spiritual fitness
stay fined tuned with daily prayer
and a heart that is true
meditate daily on the Living Word
and see what true worship can do for you
The dance was a misguided tour
Masks and dresses Halloween
Themed promenade of sexes
Dark and dimly lighted
We invaded the wilderness
Beneath the hallowed moon
The wolves howling in the distance
Not one of us fearing their brutality
For assured that our costumes
And our numbers would keep
The creatures of the night away
One, two, three, one, two ,three
Living and shadows alike
Moved in unison in the thicket
A masterpiece in the making
Bestowing the puppetry of our
Dance to delight in the invisible
Strings for which the moon
Pulled us serendipitously
Like a haunted ghostly mirage
What a picturesque panorama this is.
My eyes peer into the beautiful landscape
Of my vast, vivid imagination...
It is such a wondrous escape!
Funny, serendipitously finding you here
In this Shangri-La, patiently waiting for me.
Believe me, there is no place
On this earth I'd rather be!
Here we are, blissfully walking among
A serene golden field without a fuss,
As the unstable world crumbles
Like Gibraltar all around us.
What an adventure! It's a sheer thrill
Getting away from it all with you
We'll chase butterflies to our heart's content,
Misspend our time taking in the view.
In this haven of peace and tranquility,
We'll repeatedly sojourn; it's our royal domain,
A welcoming, breathtaking getaway
To come back to again and again.
171 E Swedesford Rd,
Unexpected positive experience
with regular totally tubular
gnarly patron first name Maureen
hmm... if only this burbling blurb
blog could somehow
be communicated - pro bono, cuz green
legal tender (mine) scarce -
anyway earlier
today December sixteenth
two thousand and nineteen
ah, my dog how serendipitously
I did germanely, modestly,
quintessentially shepherd convenient
rhyme with reason (hubble spontaneity)
three, five, eight, plus
this line thirteen...
(you get the idea, si?)
with eyes shut tight e'en
absentmindedly maneuvering "fake"
steering wheel, while zee queen
(think four foot eleven
spouse wearing spongebob
pajama pants) profusely thanked
police seeing eye dog approaching
and barking unforeseen
drove sitting on his haunches
on driver seat cop cruiser
smack dab nabbit
on our figurative docked toured tail
emulating crash test dummy
nearly didst almost careen
into our two thousand
and nine Hyundai Sonata
gave spouse faux paw high five
while flock of seagulls,
eagles, black crows...,
attired with red and green
holiday outfits suddenly appeared clean
(white hove out blizzard)
out of thin air nearly collided
with our self driving
automobile I amazingly
gratefully dodged tween
twenty plus miles north east
back to Schwenksville,
Pennsylvania, where this mean,
(once lean twice shy)
poetry (aye sup prose) writing machine,
now exuberant poet hoping
to garner (no bull lariat) keen
punny hush meant toward anybody
including trumpeting mujahedeen
hoot aches objection, which
courtesy self typing keyboard really
cool and groovy power
(smart thinkpad) reads my mind
pressing corresponding key visible
on Lenovo external large screen.